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hathycolSo, this post probably won't say much about science-fiction, or fandom, or politics.
In fact, this is the time in which I finally morph into what I am - a British college student teenager.
So... apologies.
Came home after an entertaining end-of-lesson video whatsit about the witch-craze in Europe. I am so going to love this year in history. More importantly, it had Stephan Rea as the voiceover. I sense I'm the only one who internally bounded around at the irony of Santiago doing the voiceover...
Came home on a weeny bus, with appropriate football noises. For those who didn't realise, it was England vs Switzerland tonight, and should we have lost we'd have gone out of the entire competition. Rather too late, I realised I had my Swiss Army Cow t-shirt on. Cowered at the front of the bus in fear. Arseholes at the back of the bus did the predictable chanting, moving onto personalised on - luckily, I only had one chorus of "There's only one Colleen..." which was fine on its own merits. However, the bus crawled home, and kick off started at 5.00. We arrived at the bus station at 4.50.
All fellowship and friendly walking home together was abandoned. I took the shortcut through the park; a lot of people went to the pub with the intention of going home at half time; Matt literally ran, and Jess wasn't far behind. In a worrying note, it starting bucketing it down at the stroke of five on the church clock, especially considering that I only had a hood to keep my dry. Gave up. I think I must have looked like a slightly demented Hobbit - big clompy boots (pretend they're feet), green baggy sweatshirt pulled over my head as I battle with the elements, curly hair escaping as I crouch almost double in defence against an attack by the elements.
Or something like that.
Got home. Sister greets me with glee, as do her two friends who are at our house.
"GUESSWHATGUESSWHATGUESSWHAT?"
"Piss off and put the football on."
"No! We're watching Friends!"
"I don't gice a crap. Put. On. The. Football. Now."
She turned it over and proceeded to tell me all about What Helen Has Won. Now, I'm a Radio 1 girlie, but apparently there's a competition to be driven to school in a limosine. She won. El Sister is going to scabby St Bedes in a swanky limo.
She seems most offended that I won't be listening.
"Megan, you do realise that I'm not actually in the house when this is on?"
"Listen to it on the bus!"
"The bus was made before WW2. I don't think it has FM radio."
So, that is her Big News. Anyone in the North-West, listen to Dixie in the morning on 97.4FM blah blah blah. I'm sure she'll have fun. I'm highly amused, though, that she has to leave the house before I do. JUSTICE! SWEET JUSTICE!
So, watched the football and banned El Sister and her overexcited friends. Such an exciting match. Scared the dog with my initial shriek. "YOU BLIND, REF? IT WAS AN ACCIDENT! HE'S FAKING!"
May have scared the neighbours with my second shriek. "YES! YES! THANK YOU! ROONEY, I'M SORRY! I FORGIVE YOU! YES!"
Parents and I shrieked along for the rest of it. 3-0! All we need to do is beat Croatia now!
So, you all seem to hate football. Well, sod it. I like the international tournaments; I like it when we win, too.
*happy dance*
Say what you will about holiganism, and the Sun, and the tabloids... football is fun. In small doses.
And that is all.
~Hathy_Col~
In fact, this is the time in which I finally morph into what I am - a British college student teenager.
So... apologies.
Came home after an entertaining end-of-lesson video whatsit about the witch-craze in Europe. I am so going to love this year in history. More importantly, it had Stephan Rea as the voiceover. I sense I'm the only one who internally bounded around at the irony of Santiago doing the voiceover...
Came home on a weeny bus, with appropriate football noises. For those who didn't realise, it was England vs Switzerland tonight, and should we have lost we'd have gone out of the entire competition. Rather too late, I realised I had my Swiss Army Cow t-shirt on. Cowered at the front of the bus in fear. Arseholes at the back of the bus did the predictable chanting, moving onto personalised on - luckily, I only had one chorus of "There's only one Colleen..." which was fine on its own merits. However, the bus crawled home, and kick off started at 5.00. We arrived at the bus station at 4.50.
All fellowship and friendly walking home together was abandoned. I took the shortcut through the park; a lot of people went to the pub with the intention of going home at half time; Matt literally ran, and Jess wasn't far behind. In a worrying note, it starting bucketing it down at the stroke of five on the church clock, especially considering that I only had a hood to keep my dry. Gave up. I think I must have looked like a slightly demented Hobbit - big clompy boots (pretend they're feet), green baggy sweatshirt pulled over my head as I battle with the elements, curly hair escaping as I crouch almost double in defence against an attack by the elements.
Or something like that.
Got home. Sister greets me with glee, as do her two friends who are at our house.
"GUESSWHATGUESSWHATGUESSWHAT?"
"Piss off and put the football on."
"No! We're watching Friends!"
"I don't gice a crap. Put. On. The. Football. Now."
She turned it over and proceeded to tell me all about What Helen Has Won. Now, I'm a Radio 1 girlie, but apparently there's a competition to be driven to school in a limosine. She won. El Sister is going to scabby St Bedes in a swanky limo.
She seems most offended that I won't be listening.
"Megan, you do realise that I'm not actually in the house when this is on?"
"Listen to it on the bus!"
"The bus was made before WW2. I don't think it has FM radio."
So, that is her Big News. Anyone in the North-West, listen to Dixie in the morning on 97.4FM blah blah blah. I'm sure she'll have fun. I'm highly amused, though, that she has to leave the house before I do. JUSTICE! SWEET JUSTICE!
So, watched the football and banned El Sister and her overexcited friends. Such an exciting match. Scared the dog with my initial shriek. "YOU BLIND, REF? IT WAS AN ACCIDENT! HE'S FAKING!"
May have scared the neighbours with my second shriek. "YES! YES! THANK YOU! ROONEY, I'M SORRY! I FORGIVE YOU! YES!"
Parents and I shrieked along for the rest of it. 3-0! All we need to do is beat Croatia now!
So, you all seem to hate football. Well, sod it. I like the international tournaments; I like it when we win, too.
*happy dance*
Say what you will about holiganism, and the Sun, and the tabloids... football is fun. In small doses.
And that is all.
~Hathy_Col~
no subject
Date: 2004-06-19 09:53 am (UTC)Note: Rooney might be an ugly git but he can sure handle a ball.
no subject
Date: 2004-06-19 12:04 pm (UTC)Besides, if he wasn't playing football he'd be one of the beggars who play on the trains for something to do. Ah, the joys of Merseyrail!